Fly Away
by Chronosis
Summary: AU. Lukas might be a rich kid, but that doesn't necessarily make things easy. He has been diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder, and no matter how much he wishes it, he is not normal. He sees himself as a king and can't stand anyone threatening his power. One day, however, he snaps, and things go a bit too far.
1. Chapter 1

_Note- This is not an Outsiders AU. The Greaser/Rich Kid dynamic was a real conflict in the fifties, and Greasers were a real subculture._

_Lukas Bondevik/Mathias Køhler (Denmark/Norway)_

_Lukas might be a rich kid, but that doesn't necessarily make things easy. He has been diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder, and no matter how much he wishes it, he is not normal. He sees himself as a king and can't stand anyone threatening his power. One day, however, he snaps, and things go a bit too far._

* * *

_March, 1958_

_America_

_._

Lukas hated the therapist. He hated understanding nods and gentle "yes, tell me more"'s and quiet white rooms. He hated the way his therapist spoke with an accent, hated the way she was so kind to him.

Above all, he hated his diagnosis.

Antisocial Personality Disorder. Short, crisp, deadly. Cold, hard proof that Lukas was not normal. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time when he knew he was off. Maybe it was when he was a child on the playground and shoved another boy. Lukas could not understand his tears, could not understand why the teacher wanted him to apologize. He didn't regret it.

Maybe it was the time when a girl walked up to him when he was playing with a bird. Lukas was just drawing little red lines into it with the broken glass he found, but when she saw it, she burst into tears and ran to get the teacher. It didn't make sense to him while they were all so repelled. He was just playing with the bird. It was just a game.

Maybe it was the general fact that he didn't have any friends through childhood. Everyone avoided him like the plague. Maybe they were afraid; maybe Lukas was different from them.

Antisocial Personality Disorder.

"Could you tell me more about Mathias?"

Lukas looked slowly up to the therapist. He must have mentioned Mathias earlier. He didn't remember what he told these people.

What could he say? Mathias was the first person who tried to become friends with him. Mathias was the person closest to him. He was kind, he was naive. "He's my friend."

The woman nodded. She was a new one. Lukas never stayed with the same therapist for long. "And do you have any other friends?"

The other people in the Vikings, his gang, spoke to him. He and Mathias were the leaders, after all. Emil, his brother, was somewhat of a friend. Lukas shrugged.

The woman wrote something down. "What is your relationship with your parents?"

His mother liked to pretend Lukas didn't exist. His father liked to hit him and spit profanities at his feet. He shrugged again.

The woman rose and extended her hand to him. "It was very nice to meet you, Lukas."

Lukas looked slowly from her hand to her face before gently taking it, shaking it quickly and pushing past her and out of her office. When he got outside, he ran.

He couldn't stand therapy.

When he got home, he slipped past his father at the television and his mother doing the laundry and went straight to his room. He locked the door and checked the handle to make sure it was secure. When it held, he turned around and felt under the mattress of his bed until his hand came in contact with cold metal. His fingers curled around it and he pulled it out slowly, resting it on his knee. He smiled.

Lukas had known for a long time that his dad had a gun. He had only recently discovered that his father kept it in his desk drawer and only stole it the day before, along with the ammunition. Lukas had all sorts of knives, but a gun was more dangerous. It was a thrill.

His father wouldn't miss it; he had no use for it. The gun was Lukas' prize now. He pushed it carefully back under his mattress, checking to make sure that it was completely concealed before leaving. He would never stay in his house too long. That was just asking for trouble from his parents, from his completely normal brother. He couldn't breathe in his house.

Spring had only begun, and the air was still rather cold. Lukas inhaled deeply, walking toward the train tracks. This was the only kind of air he could breathe.

The train itself only came by early in the morning and late at night, rushing down toward the poorer part of town, where the Greasers were. Where Winter was.

Lukas kicked a rock into the train tracks. It clattered along and lodged itself firmly into the gravel.

Winter was their rival gang. He and the leader, Ivan, had hated each other for as long as he could remember. They were almost constantly fighting. The Vikings had money and weapons, but Winter had strength and pride. Sometimes, that went a lot farther than having better weapons. Winter was unbeatable, but then again, so were the Vikings.

But they had never managed to defeat Winter.

Lukas gritted his teeth and kicked another rock, harder. Winter could not be better than them. Winter could not be better than _him_. He was going to defeat them. He had to.

Suddenly, that's all that consumed his mind. He couldn't be inferior. He was already inferior to his brother. He had to get rid of Winter.

It dawned on him. Tomorrow, there was another rumble. He had never had a gun before.

He felt himself grin. He had a plan.

Ivan wouldn't be the leader for much longer.

.

"Do you have to fight?"

Lukas shrugged- he shrugged a lot. It was easier than talking. He was in Mathias' room, sitting on the edge of his bed. The gun was heavy in his jacket pocket. He ran his fingers along it, savoring the cold of the metal. It was the touch of power.

Mathias paced tirelessly back and forth. He always had so much energy. He had the blond hair and light eyes that everyone else had in the Vikings. It was the same way with Ivan and his sisters, but he didn't think of that. "I don't want you to get hurt, you know."

"They're the ones who are going to get hurt." Lukas kept his voice monotone and even like he always did. And they would get hurt, much more than the Vikings would. They wouldn't be fighting on their own turf, either; some insignificant gang's instead. The Thunderbirds or something like that. He had only seen them a few times, and they were all weak. They were just a bunch of scared kids.

Mathias sighed, sitting next to him. "We don't know that. You know how I feel about you, I-"

"We're friends, and you don't want me getting hurt." Lukas watched Mathias' face for some sort of reaction- disgust at being called his friend, maybe. Instead, he looked nervous.

"We are friends, but that's not what I mean."

Lukas felt a tiny smile grow. They were friends. A faint warm glow formed in his stomach, an emotion he would only ever let himself feel for Mathias. Emotions would always get in the way, but Mathias was a loyal friend, and Lukas wouldn't be abandoned or betrayed. So this was okay.

Mathias wasn't done yet, though. He was having trouble saying whatever came next. "What do you mean?"

Mathias averted his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're not just a friend to me."

"I don't understand."

Mathias met his gaze straight on. "I love you."

Lukas could only stare. Mathias loved him, not as a friend. Like Emil loved his girlfriend. That wasn't right. He looked away. "Don't say that. Your father will get mad."

Mathias flinched at the mention of his father. They had a difficult relationship, and Mathias was always trying to please him. Lukas didn't feel anything seeing his reaction.

Mathias took Lukas' hand in his own. "No, listen. I really, really love you, and I have for a year. Please, don't dismiss me like that."

The pleading note in his voice made Lukas look back at Mathias, at the desperation in his eyes. Lukas hadn't loved anyone. At least, he didn't think he ever had, but if he thought about it, Mathias was always special to him. He might love Mathias. He might grow to love him. Mathias was the most important person in his life; maybe he already did.

"Are you going to say anything?" Mathias' voice was quiet, defeated.

Lukas didn't know what to say. He had never told anyone he loved them. So instead, he leaned forward and held Mathias, buried his face in Mathias' shirt, breathed his scent in. When he felt Mathias' arms warm on his back, holding him close, he decided that he liked Mathias too. He forgot how nice it was to be held.

Mathias loving him opened a new world of possibilities. He would do anything for Lukas, and he was already so naive. He would be blinded by his attachment. That would make him easier to control. "I love you, too." Lukas didn't know what he felt or what those words even meant, but this would make Mathias happy, and this would benefit Lukas.

Mathias held him like that for a long time. The gun dragged down at his jacket, a constant reminder of what was coming, until Lukas checked the clock and it was only ten minutes away. "It's time to go."

Mathias slowly pulled away, like he didn't want to. He looked at Lukas with a special warmth now. "Are you sure you need to do this?"

Lukas nodded and stood, leading the way. "If I'm not there, only half of the leadership will be, and that will weaken the morale of the rest."

They were meeting up at a park near that other gangs' neighborhood. Mathias insisted on holding his hand for much of the way. Lukas saw it as an inconvenience, but he went along with it anyway. It made Mathias ridiculously happy, after all.

When he saw the trees thin and the wire fence come into sight, Lukas snatched his hand back and steeled himself. Winter was already in position along with the others in the Vikings. Lukas took position and waited. Tino and Berwald were to his right. They were practically inseparable, and wherever Tino was, Berwald would be, towering above them all.

Across from Lukas was Natalia, who watched him with cold, flinty eyes. She kept glancing back toward the houses behind her. Lukas took note of that- perhaps there was someone important to her in that gang. That could always be exploited if he needed to.

Then there was Katyusha, who was much too kind to do any real damage. She would always fret over the condition of her younger siblings. She put their life above hers. There were three other, smaller, insignificant people beside them that Lukas skimmed over until he reached Ivan.

Ivan was a mountain of a man, constantly dressed in a trench coat and scarf, no matter the weather. There was no color in his clothes or skin or eyes. Not even in his hair; a light grey-blond. He noticed Lukas looking and smiled innocently. Lukas felt his blood boil, his hands clenching into fists so tightly his nails dug into his skin.

Soon.

Someone must have reached for their weapon or moved too quickly because all of a sudden Natalia was leaping toward him, switchblade raised, cutting an arc as Lukas jumped back. He took out a knife of his own, parrying her blow, his heart pounding and his palms sweating. He couldn't lose sight of Ivan. Lukas needed to get rid of him no matter what. Ivan had to go.

Lukas scanned the park for some kind of cover before he was drawn back into the fight by a punch. It hit him straight on the jaw, and he stumbled back, cursing under his breath. He braced himself for another blow, but it never came. When he looked up, Mathias was beating away his attacker. Lukas wasn't seeing only him, though, but the overgrown bush behind him.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Everyone paused and turned to the source of the noise, a girl running toward them, flanked by four others. The Ravens, or whatever they were called.

Everyone was distracted- this was his chance. Lukas dashed forward, diving for the bush just as everything turned to chaos again. The gun burned a hole in his pocket. He scanned the fight.

A blond-haired tank of a boy was fighting with Mathias, two others who looked like brothers were keeping Tino and Berwald busy, and Emil was engaged with Natalia. The girl he had seen earlier and an albino were fighting some of Ivan's underlings. Ivan himself was with Katyusha, back turned to him, completely open.

Lukas slid the gun out of his pocket and turned off the safety, readying the shot. The gun wasn't for long distance attacks, but it would have to do. He braced himself for the feedback as he tightened his finger on the trigger.

Then, a flash of golden-blonde distracted Lukas as a girl ran in front of him, completely out of place. He quickly lowered the gun and relaxed his hand; he wouldn't want to kill anyone more than he needed to.

The girl was shoved and promptly punched back, missing her target completely as they ducked and she collided with the albino, staggering forward. This was incredibly strange. He had never seen the girl around the gangs before.

She wasn't there for long, however, because she soon turned around and ran off past the bush, back toward Lukas' neighborhood.

Lukas clenched his teeth hard. He had let himself get distracted, and Ivan had moved. He couldn't let himself slip like that again. Ivan had to be eliminated.

But instead of the rumble he saw before, two other people had joined the albino and were currently cutting through the fight. Everyone began to scatter, the Vikings running toward him and the wire fences. Lukas stood and followed, casting one last venomous glare at Ivan before climbing up and jumping back into his turf.

Ivan had gotten away. Ivan was still completely fine, unharmed, alive. Ivan was better than him. Lukas felt like he was suffocating. His hands shook as he put the gun back into his pocket and regrouped with the other Vikings. He tried to breathe deep, tried to calm his racing heart.

Lukas was inferior. Ivan was better than him. He had gotten away and Lukas had failed.

Everything was too dark. There were hands around his throat- there had to be. He couldn't breathe. Someone was strangling him.

Ivan escaped; Ivan was better. Ivan threatened his kingdom. Ivan threatened him. He needed to be eliminated. Erased. Destroyed.

"Lukas? Are you alright? You're really pale."

Lukas jumped, Tino's voice cutting into his storming mind. Tino was concerned. He was always the most innocent, kind one in the Vikings. He was the easiest one to control.

He looked around at the others all staring at them, that same concern on their faces. Yes, his subjects loved him. They would always love their king. Ivan could never take that away.

"I'm fine." Lukas steadied himself. Ivan didn't escape permanently. Of course, Lukas always had tomorrow. This was fine. "Just a little dizzy."

Mathias was immediately questioning him. "Were you hurt?"

Lukas shrugged. "I don't think so."

Mathias grabbed his hand and led him toward his house. "Here, I have stuff in case you are injured."

Lukas let himself be pulled along, intertwining their fingers. Even if he didn't love Mathias, his attention was still wonderful.

He tried to pull away as soon as Mathias' house came into view, but Mathias didn't respond other than holding his hand tighter. Lukas didn't care either way; it wasn't his parents he had to worry about. However, when they went inside the house, it was completely silent. Mathias led him up to his room.

"Are you sure you're alright? You were really pale back there."

Lukas nodded again. Mathias looked unconvinced and started searching him. "You would always get injured as a kid and you would never notice."

Perhaps he had. Lukas never felt pain as intensely as other people and it would take a while to notice when he was hurt. "Are your parents home? It's quiet."

"Oh, they're on a business trip. They'll be gone for the week. Why?"

Looking down at him like this, Lukas decided he wanted Mathias' hands on him in a much different way. He might not feel as much for Mathias, but he was definitely attractive. Lukas grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him up, kissing him roughly. Mathias took a moment to respond, leaning in passionately, hungrily. His hand tangled itself in Lukas' hair. Yes, Lukas definitely wanted Mathias to touch him like this. He leaned on Lukas, slamming them against the wall with unintentional force.

"Ah, sorry," Mathias broke the kiss, and Lukas immediately pulled him back, hands traveling all over Mathias' body.

"Shut up and fuck me."

Mathias responded immediately, his hands running along Lukas's torso and up his shirt. Lukas shuddered, surrendering to the intensity as Mathias moved down to his neck and his hands lower. He would simply forget for a while.

.

Lukas decided his favorite thing was seeing Mathias squirm. His favorite sound was Mathias' voice. His favorite feeling was Mathias' lips on his skin.

Mathias was currently holding Lukas close, his arms around him almost protectively. He would occasionally kiss Lukas' cheek or snuggle closer to him. He tried to nudge him away. "I need to shower."

Mathias groaned, his arms tightening. "Don't leave. You're warm."

Lukas couldn't help smiling. He trailed his finger down Mathias' arm. "Then come join me."

That rekindled a certain fire in Mathias and he grinned, leaning up to kiss Lukas. "Give me a minute."

Lukas went over to the bathroom and turned on the water. As he waited for it to heat up, he made the mistake of looking into the mirror.

Pale skin, white-blond hair. Blue eyes. Stoic face. He craned his head upward, examining all the marks that Mathias left. They would be hard to cover, but Lukas was used to hiding bruises. He looked up to his face again, and it all came back.

He had failed. He was worthless. His face contorted, his chest tightening uncomfortably. He felt the same loathing anger rise and he plunged his hand in the scalding water and began scrubbing out his reflection in the glass. Sanding away his face. Wiping away his features. Maybe then, he would look as empty and bland as he felt.

"Lukas?"

He turned around, lowering his hand looking over Mathias coolly. He made sure his face was completely stoic. "The mirror was dirty."

Mathias still gave him a bit of a weird look, but he took his hand anyway and led Lukas to the shower. "C'mon. Shit, how hot do you like this?"

As Mathias lathered shampoo into his hair, he could only think of one thing.

Hot enough to erase the strikes of his father. Hot enough to numb him. Hot enough to boil away his skin, his bones, all of him until there was nothing left at all.

.

School was hell. He hated it more than anything. Ivan was in three of his classes, and he would just smile at Lukas, mocking him, taunting him. Lukas found it was incredibly hard to pay attention when he was suppressing the urge to rip someone's throat out.

He noticed the same girl from that other gang was in his classes as well- her name was something like Elizabeth. She was surprisingly soft-spoken during class and only smiled at Tino. For Lukas, she had a cold glare.

"Hey. Hey, Lukas." Mathias tapped his shoulder. "Lukas."

Lukas shook his head slightly, realizing he had been staring at the girl. "What?"

Mathias was grinning wolfishly and Tino just raised an eyebrow at him. "Show him your neck."

Lukas glared at Mathias. He was a pain in the ass sometimes. Literally. "You didn't tell him."

"What? No way!" Tino leaned forward. "He was telling the truth?"

Lukas sighed and unbuttoned the neck of his shirt, pulling it down and moving his hair out of the way to reveal the series of marks. He had purposefully wore the shirt with the tallest collar he had for this exact reason. He shouldn't have thought that Mathias would keep quiet.

Tino whistled. "Well. I owe you a dollar, Mathias."

Now Lukas was the one raising an eyebrow. "What am I, a prostitute?"

Mathias winked. "You're mine."

Lukas rolled his eyes and returned to his work. "You're hopeless." He wrote out another equation and glanced up at the girl. She was talking to the albino now. Sometimes Roderich would join in, which was strange. Roderich wasn't a Greaser. Was he the girl's boyfriend? That would be disastrous. When people from different classes mingled, nothing good would come out.

Someone jabbed him in the ribs. He jumped, whirling around on Mathias. "You're so distracted today. What's up?"

Lukas gestured at the girl. "She was the one who broke up the rumble, from that other gang. Who is she?"

Tino smiled. "Oh, that's Elizaveta. She's really nice, you know? She talks to me sometimes."

That was interesting. Elizaveta was kind. He looked her up and down. She was surprisingly muscular for a girl, though the term seemed to loosely fit her. She wore a loose leather jacket he had never seen her out of and baggy jeans, her long hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Beside the green ribbon in her hair, there was nothing classically feminine about her. "Elizaveta."

"You're not checking her out, are you?" Tino lifted one shoulder in halfhearted shrug as he returned to his work. "She only has eyes for one person. That girl, Natalia. Ivan's little sister."

Lukas tensed at Ivan's name. His influence was everywhere, it seemed. He was more influential than Lukas- he was better. Lukas swallowed hard. "Is that so." This information was special; he could use it against Elizaveta in the future if he ever needed to. His mind flashed back to when Natalia kept looking back to the Blackbird's neighborhood- maybe that's who she was looking for.

Then, there was the fact of her being interested in another woman. He could use that as well. He wasn't surprised. After all, for some reason, quite a few people he knew were homosexual. They weren't out about it, of course- that would be disastrous. Lukas had simply learned to read the signs and recognize them when he could, not to mention that he suspected Tino himself had such inclinations.

The bell went off and the students streamed out of the class. Lukas quickly gathered up his things, setting off toward the gym. That was his next class and his favorite. In the pounding of his feet on the wood and the pounding of his heart it was easy to forget everything, not to mention that Ivan never came around to the sports section of the school. It was his territory.

That was why when he saw Ivan standing in the hall his vision turned dark and the breath was stolen out of his lungs. Air turned to hot tar. His hands shook and his heart beat faster. He didn't bring his knife. Why didn't he bring his knife? Ivan was here, in his kingdom. He was trespassing.

And then Ivan looked up to him and smiled and his stomach dropped and his feet froze to the ground and where was Mathias, he needed Mathias, he needed someone to ground him, and Ivan was walking toward him and no no get away but his legs wouldn't move and his lungs wouldn't breathe and Ivan stopped in front of him and held out a piece of paper.

"Where is this room? I am lost."

Lukas couldn't speak; his voice had left him some time ago along with his mobility. He looked down to the words on the page.

_Knitting- A136_

Knitting. Ivan was in a knitting class. What was he going to do in there, stab someone with a needle? He cleared his throat, forcing out a response. "It's on the other side of the school."

Ivan furrowed his brow, staring down at the writing. Lukas hated how he was so much taller. Then, Ivan smiled again and waved. "Thank you, Lukas."

As Ivan walked away, Lukas took a shaky breath and shoved his clammy hands into his pocket.

He wasn't afraid of Ivan. He wouldn't admit he was afraid of Ivan. He went into the gym and tried to slow his racing mind.

He had no reason to be afraid of Ivan. Ivan was nothing.

And Lukas was a king.

.

Lukas laid stretched out on his floor, his cheek pressed to the cold of the wood and his hand tracing the line of one of his knives. He counted his breaths.

He hated feeling so empty. He hated not being able to love Mathias, he hated not to be able to understand people. Regret and empathy were foreign to him. It was like he wasn't of the same species.

He didn't regret using Mathias. He didn't regret anything. It was strange to him to consider that Mathias could be possessed with something like love for a creature as wretched as he. That he would do anything for Lukas. He wanted to return that, because he liked seeing Mathias happy. Mathias was his pillar, his throne. Lukas needed him.

But he didn't feel anything. Just emptiness. It wasn't like he didn't like Mathias. No, he was one of the only people Lukas truly cared for. It wasn't any matter of self-loathing, either; he was a king. He had no reason to hate himself. He was missing something, and he didn't know what it was.

Lukas' door banged open and he jolted up, pushing the knife under the bed. He stood quickly, looking his father straight in the eye. He swallowed hard, cold fear freezing him in place.

His father locked him in an unblinking stare, slowly advancing on him. "Show me your neck."

Everything was hot and cold at once. Lukas' mind blanked. His heart leapt to his throat, pounding. "Why?"

"Don't ask questions." His father narrowed his eyes and gestured to Lukas' high shirt collar. "That's suspicious."

Lukas unconsciously covered his neck with his hand. He vaguely noticed they were shaking, but his mind wasn't there. His mind was swimming, confused, full of white noise, and the room turned dark. "No."

The word was out of his mouth before he could control it. His chest tightened and his breath came faster. He couldn't take it back- the damage was already done.

His father's eyes turned to cold ice and he stepped forward, slapping Lukas hard. Lukas flinched. "What did you say?"

Lukas didn't respond, his hand clamping over his neck even tighter. He stepped back, bracing himself for what was about to happen.

His father hit him harder, his head snapping back and his vision turning white-hot. Lukas gasped, unable to contain it. He stumbled backward, slamming into his dresser. Something broke and cut into his arm. "Show me."

His father's voice was deadly cold and too calm. It awakened primal fear inside him, turning his blood to ice and catching the breath in his throat. When Lukas kept his hand firmly over his neck, his father hit him again, harder, and he fell to the ground, tears blurring his vision.

Hot-knife hands and boiling fists. Red red red. Blood smeared on the wood. He couldn't tell where it was from. Everything was muddled, confused.

The fifth strike was what broke him. He curled up into a ball, sobbing. "There's nothing." He didn't know if he whispered or shouted it. "Please, please..."

This time he didn't resist his father prying his fingers off his neck, roughly pushing down his collar. There was a long moment of silence before his father spit on his face. "You goddamned whore."

He left then, slamming the door and leaving Lukas laying on the floor, completely still. He stared at the blood on the floor and realized his arm had dyed his sleeve red. He didn't care. His lips weren't bleeding, and his ribs didn't hurt. He took a deep breath. Nothing. That meant nothing was bruised or cracked, which was an improvement. He held onto thoughts like that as he slowly sat up, wincing. He wiped the spit off his face with trembling hands. He rolled up his sleeves, examining his arms. His left was a mess of blood, but the right only had bruises. Those were easy to hide.

He stood slowly and stumbled over to his mirror, examining his face. His face was red where his father had hit him, but only his cheekbone looked like it would bruise. It didn't matter. He had rice powder in his drawer. That was always good for hiding bruises.

He rinsed the blood off of his arm and bandaged it. It had taken even less time for him to give in this time; he was getting weaker. Lukas felt that same anger rise in him. He should have fought back. His knife was right under his bed. He could have done something.

But then he thought of hard fists and frigid eyes and the anger froze over. He could never fight against his father. He might be a king, but his father was a monster.

His fear quickly soured into anger. This was Ivan's fault. This had to be. Ivan was the one who made him feel so weak, so small, so inferior. If Ivan was eliminated, everything would be so much better.

Lukas went over and retrieved the gun from under his mattress, stuffing it in his pocket and throwing his hood up before he slipped outside, avoiding his parents. As soon as the post-winter chill hit his face, he smiled.

Lukas wouldn't miss this time. He wouldn't be distracted.

Ivan was going to die.

Lukas walked down the train tracks as the moon began to rise in the sky. It had to be late; Lukas estimated nine or nine thirty. Winter's neighborhood was just down the tracks. He knew it was, but everything was so incredibly unfamiliar. He didn't even consider that he had never been to this part of town. This entire plan he had was entirely impulsive. To make matters worse, the farther he went, the more lost he became, until he was in a foreign neighborhood. It was almost completely silent.

Lukas needed to kill Ivan. He needed to eliminate him. He couldn't stand feeling so inferior. Ivan led his gang because they liked him, because he was a good, kind person. People gravitated toward him. He was intensely loyal and would always defend the people who he befriended. He was cold and savage to his enemies. That was a threat.

Lukas was not a good person. Lukas was not kind, or oblivious, or naive, or any of the things Ivan was.

Ivan needed to die.

Suddenly, that thought was all that mattered. It consumed his mind, blotting out all other thought, suffocating him like cold fingers around his neck. He felt like he was drowning. He couldn't get enough air, he was lightheaded, he couldn't think straight, his father hated him, Ivan needed to go, he needed to die, Lukas couldn't be inferior anymore, he couldn't do this, Ivan needed to die.

Lukas started running down the tracks blindly. He only felt like he was free when he ran, ran away from his father, from his emptiness, from his life. He had to escape. He was caged, a bird with clipped wings. He needed to fly. He couldn't be inferior anymore.

He ran into something, stumbling back and falling down hard onto the gravel of the tracks. The breath was knocked out of his lungs and his vision flashed.

"Watch where the hell you're going, dumbass."

Lukas looked up to a red-headed Greaser staring down at him. He took a drag on a cigarette and flicked the ash. It spiraled down by his face.

Lukas couldn't stop the hurricane of emotion from overtaking him again as he looked up at the Greaser. This boy, no, this child, was the bottom-level scum of society.

And he was standing above Lukas.

_Above him._

_Like he was better than Lukas._

Something snapped in him. Everything turned dark, he felt like he was on fire, everything disappeared except for this insolent child above him. Lukas was not inferior to anyone. He was a king.

He tore the gun out of his jacket and fired. The boy stumbled backward, his cigarette falling to the ground and his mouth hanging open stupidly before he screamed.

"Shut up, shut up!" Lukas shot again with hands shaking so violently he almost dropped the gun. A constellation of blood splattered the concrete before him. The scream was cut short, the boy crumpling to the ground.

Everything was silent except for Lukas' heavy gasps. For a moment, he just stared at the body. Then, a thrill rushed through him, euphoric. He laughed breathily and pocketed the gun again. "I'm not inferior to anyone." And he wasn't. He was a king, and anyone who came in his way would be eliminated.

He felt someone's eyes on him. He spun around, searching the trees in front of the neighborhood.

There, reeling before the body, was a messy-haired brunet. Lukas took note of the length of his hair, falling to his shoulders. He would remember that.

His hand flew to his pocket again, sliding out the gun so that it glinted in the light. The man's eyes widened. "If you tell anyone, I promise that you'll be next. I'll be keeping an eye on you, and I'll see who your friends are. If I suspect anything..." He let his gaze slide down at the body in front of him. There was a long pause before he looked back up slowly, his voice deadly. "I'm sparing you now. Remember that. I won't show you as much mercy next time."

He sprinted away, not caring how loud his feet were on the gravel. He would make sure the man wouldn't talk. Lukas was an expert at manipulation.

As for now, he would go to the only place he was loved.

.

Lukas knocked on Mathias' door. The moon was high in the sky by the time he got there, the air frigid. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, wishing he had worn a warmer one. The fabric was too thin and hardly kept out the cold.

The door swung open and Mathias looked out, his grinning widely when he saw Lukas. "You just couldn't keep away from me, huh?" His eyes widened when they went down to the jacket Lukas was wearing and his grin dropped. "You must be freezing in that! Come here, quick."

Mathias pulled him inside and closed the door, immediately holding him close. Lukas leaned into the warmth of the embrace.

"You're shivering." Mathias held him tighter and Lukas closed his eyes. Being held by Mathias was the only thing that could calm him down. Surrounded by his arms and his scent, he didn't feel broken or inferior. He felt wanted. His heart slowed, his shivering stilled, and the last of the negativity in him slipped away.

"What happened?"

Lukas took a deep breath and tried to keep his composure. Mathias would know what he meant; it wasn't the first time it happened. "My father."

Mathias gasped softly. Thank god, he understood. Lukas didn't know how he would explain otherwise."Oh. I'm sorry."

Lukas half-shrugged and wondered why his throat burned. "I'm used to it." His voice was raw and trembled. He tried to swallow whatever emotion was coming through, biting his lip hard enough it bled. Emotion wasn't something he knew how to deal with.

"You can cry if you want."

Mathias' whisper was quiet and kind and suddenly Lukas was crying, he was clinging to Mathias' and sobbing because this wasn't fair, none of this was fair, he didn't want his father to hate him, he didn't want to have this damn disorder, he wanted to love Mathias. He wanted to love Mathias so much that it hurt.

So he cried.

Mathias didn't say a word the entire time. He simply held Lukas, his arms warm and supportive, and let him cry. When Lukas had calmed down somewhat, Mathias began murmuring, "it's alright, you'll be okay. I love you, it's okay."

_I love you._ He still didn't understand what those words meant.

Mathias pulled back and gently put his hand on the side of Lukas' face. His brow furrowed and his eyes seemed too bright, both angry and sad. "Don't worry. You didn't bruise too badly."

Lukas wiped away the annoying tears that still leaked from his eyes. It took him a moment to find his voice, hoarse from crying. "I want to sleep."

Mathias' eyes softened. "Of course, follow me."

The entire night long, Lukas shook as Mathias held him, shivering as if he was still in the night, even if it was warm. The entire night long, he jumped at any sound from outside, convinced that the police would come for him.

The entire night long, he could still feel his father's spit rolling down his face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lukas. Lukas, it's time to go."

Lukas groaned, forcing his eyes open. He had only managed to fall asleep about an hour before and was absolutely exhausted. He closed his eyes and blocked out the whistling of the train. His face and his arms ached where his father had hit him, and he definitely couldn't force himself up. He absolutely was not going to school. "No."

Mathias peered down at him for a minute, then shrugged and laid back down, wrapping his arms around Lukas. "Fine by me."

Mathias simply looked at him before grinning. Lukas noticed he was blushing. "What?"

"Well, uh..." He was suddenly bashful. He was usually so overconfident and borderline obnoxious; it was an interesting change. "Y'know, I've always wanted to know what it's like to wake up next to you."

Lukas felt that same tiny warm glow. He took hold of it, tried to savor it; it was the closest to love he would get. He wanted it, craved it, needed it. "How is it?"

Mathias cupped his cheek, his smile growing. "It's better than I ever would have imagined."

Lukas could feel a tiny smile lift the corners of his lips. Mathias kissed his nose gently before pulling him close again. "Let's sleep. I'm tired."

Lukas leaned into his warmth and tried to block out the pain in his arms. Strangely enough, when he was with Mathias, nothing hurt quite as much.

.

Lukas was reluctant to awake the second time. It was only when he noticed that the bed next to him was cold and empty that he came to his senses. He shot up, wide awake, feeling the mattress beside him for any warmth. Mathias had left him, he was alone, he had no one else left, he was alone, alone...

Mathias couldn't leave him. Mathias was the only reason Lukas lived, he was his only light, the only good thing in Lukas' life. He needed Mathias.

"Oh, you're up?" Mathias shouldered in through the door, balancing a tray in between his hands. He grinned. "I made you breakfast."

The relief Lukas felt was almost ecstatic. He would never be this attached to anyone but Mathias. Mathias was his and only his, and Mathias would never betray him. Lukas didn't know what he would do without him.

As soon as Mathias saw Lukas' face his smile fell, replaced by anger and almost sadness. He set the tray down and lifted Lukas' chin slightly. His mouth became a hard line. "That bastard."

Mathias's fingers gently ghosted over his cheekbone. Lukas winced, and Mathias immediately drew his hand back. "Sorry."

Lukas dropped his gaze. "Is it that bad?" His voice was quiet and defeated. The only time he ever sounded like that was when his father was involved.

Mathias looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't for a long moment. He cleared his throat. "It's noticeable." The words sounded like they were forced out. At Lukas' expression, Mathias grinned again, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can just say you got it from beating up a hood, huh?"

As Lukas ate, Mathias retrieved the newspaper, reading it over. Lukas found that peculiar about him- he was always interested in current events.

Lukas watched Mathias' face freeze over from indifference to shock as he read the front page. He made a sound of disgust in his throat. "Those hoods, those Greasers, another one died last night. Shot to death."

Lukas immediately sat straighter, setting the tray aside. "Let me see."

Mathias handed it over to him, muttering something that sounded like "_white trash_". Lukas snatched the newspaper from him.

TEEN KID KILLED IN SHOOTING

The title was emblazoned across the top in bold black font, an article beneath about how the boy died and where he was from and what he was like. He came from a bad neighborhood. His grades were average. He was an athlete and ran in track, one of their best. Lukas almost wanted to laugh- the boy couldn't run away from him.

Reading over the article was euphoric. It was cold, hard proof that Lukas was not inferior to anyone. It was like he was reliving the thrill of the hunt, the thrill of a final victory, the thrill of exerting his power as a king. The boy had been shot twice, once in the stomach and once in the chest. Lukas could see it bright as day. God, had he screamed. Humans had a lot of blood in them.

He would've ripped out the article to keep for himself if Mathias hadn't been watching. Lukas wanted something as a trophy; he deserved something as a trophy.

Lukas wondered- could Mathias smell the criminal on him? Did it cling to him, like mist to a sunrise? Would Mathias only have to move a little closer to sniff out the killer?

He had a lot of questions and started with the simplest. "Mathias. What are the Blackbirds like?"

Mathias leaned back and took a deep breath. "They're a strange bunch. They're really two gangs- the Bad Touch Trio and the rest of them. No one is really the leader of them; they all have a say in what goes on. That girl we saw, Elizaveta. She's one of the main people running the show down there. Real weird- she doesn't seem like a lady at all." He laughed derisively. He only ever got this caustic when he talked about the Greasers. "They even have one of us with them. He lives down the street. His name is Roderich." He shook his head. "Weird that he would hang out with such trash, huh?"

Lukas agreed, but his mind wasn't there. It was in the night before, focused on a certain messy-haired brunet with eyes that had seen too much. "You know what they all look like, right?"

Mathias gave him a strange look. "Why are you so curious?"

Lukas feigned a half-hearted shrug. "We might be fighting them later. I want to know what we're up against." It was always easy for him to lie, and this was no different.

It was convincing enough for Mathias, and he went into detail about each. None of them matched the stranger he was looking for. Lukas sighed. "He looks about our age, maybe older, with hair to here." He gestured to his shoulders. "Kind of curly. Dark."

Mathias considered it for a long moment. "That sounds like Heracles. He lives on Hell's Cauldron; you could have seen him there." Mathias said, using the nickname for the Blackbird's neighborhood.

He had a name to the witness. Heracles. Lukas would have a word with him later. The beginnings of an idea began to form in his mind, and he turned it over. Examined it. Tested it's waters. "I have a plan."

Mathias leaned forward, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "What?"

Lukas slowly smiled, and it was anything but innocent. He had gotten away with murder. He could get away with anything.

His deadly smile grew, and he told Mathias.

.

There were three parts to Lukas' plan.

The first was getting his note to Gilbert. Mathias had described him as arrogant, loud, and overly protective and fond of Roderich. "I think he's... Like us," Mathias had said. That gave Lukas much more to work with.

He needed a place to meet up with Heracles, and he found it. There was a park near their neighborhood and not far from the Blackbird's. There were only two parks near Hell's Cauldron, so it wouldn't be hard to single out.

He wrote the ransom note and gave it to Mathias to put in the locker of that Gilbert Beilschmidt. He had just left, heading to the school to deliver the note and complete part two.

Part three would commence much later and there was much time before they had to prepare. It was going to be the most thrilling part, after all. For now, Lukas would wait until Mathias returned.

He got up and went to the mirror, almost recoiling in shock at what he saw. A yellow bruise stretched across his left cheekbone and his arms were covered in them. There was a red blotch on the bandage on his arm. He touched his cheek tentatively and winced at the pain.

He would just say he got it from a Greaser. That would make things easier and it would avoid any further questions. Mathias really was smart sometimes.

Mathias entered the room just as he thought that, throwing his arms around Lukas and kissing his cheek. "Don't worry, it looks tough. No one will think it was from anything else."

Lukas put his hand on Mathias' arm. "You did it?"

Mathias nodded. "Easily, too. That Gilbert kid jams his locker- I didn't even have to do much to get it open."

That was one step closer. The note Lukas wrote was just a threat. If Gilbert didn't get Heracles to go to the park by 8:00, he would kill Roderich. Lukas doubted that it would come to that, but he wouldn't hesitate if it did. Lukas was oddly proud of Mathias- he had definitely turned out to be useful.

They had just a few hours before part three of the plan, the part Lukas would enjoy the most. And then he would have to return home.

Lukas closed his eyes and leaned into Mathias. He just wanted to forget everything.

"Mathias?" His voice was quiet. His head was swimming with the worst things he could think of.

"Yes?"

Lukas was almost afraid to ask. He turned around, facing him. "You won't leave me, will you?" That was the one thing he couldn't stand, the one thing he was terrified of. His father could kick him out, the police could find him, but as long as Mathias still loved him he wouldn't care.

Mathias responded by cupping his cheek, his eyes softening. "Of course I won't. I love you, Lukas. I never will."

Lukas kissed him softly, sweetly. He didn't know if he loved Mathias, but he wanted to be with him, close to him. He was the only person Lukas truly trusted or cared for.

When Lukas pulled away, Mathias put his hand on the back of his head and kissed him again, much less innocently. Lukas almost smiled and slid his hands up Mathias' shirt, reveling in the way he responded. It would be a few hours before the third part of the plan; they had the time for this.

When Lukas felt Mathias' lips on his neck and his hands along his waistline, he surrendered completely.

.

"Berwald, Tino." Lukas looked between the pair- from Tino's trusting, determined eyes to Berwald's icy stare. Berwald's devotion to Tino would keep him from any serious harm, and Tino himself wasn't weak at all. "You go to the Blackbirds. Keep them distracted, and keep an eye out for the girl."

He looked over to Mathias and Emil. Mathias was strong, but impulsive and too energetic, while Emil hated fighting in general. He could he strong if he wanted to. "You two go to Winter."

Emil met his gaze coolly. His whole appearance was icy, from his blue eyes to white-blond hair and pale skin. His hair was almost as light as Gilbert's. Aside from that, he and Lukas looked similar. "And what will you be doing?"

Lukas looked down at him. He was the shortest one in the Vikings. If Lukas couldn't be as normal as Emil, at least he could be taller. "I have to talk to someone. It involves the Vikings."

He looked at his watch- seven thirty, half an hour before he had to go and meet up with Heracles. He nodded, straightened his shoulders, and surveyed the others, savoring the rush of power he felt. How easily he could control these people. "The plan begins now. Meet up at Mathias' house after." He turned around and strode off in the direction of the old park.

Part three of the plan was to attack of both of the other gangs while Lukas met up with Heracles. It was an entertaining diversion, it would show the other gangs the power of the Vikings, and Lukas simply wanted to see how it would turn out.

He wasn't afraid of the Blackbirds at all; they were anything but strong. Winter was the only attack he was concerned with at all. They had some of the strongest in the area. He wasn't afraid at all, though, since Mathias would be there. Mathias was the only person he trusted and if Lukas told him to fight, he would win.

The park he was going to was secluded, both on his territory and the Blackbird's. It was an ideal location and he had never seen anyone go there.

Lukas put his hands in his pockets, his fingers brushing along the metal of his gun. He would make sure Heracles wouldn't talk. It would be simple, and if it wasn't, he had other ways of getting what he wanted.

He found the old park path, half overgrown, and followed it until he reached a clearing. A rusty swing set was in the corner, a beaten-up slide was to the side, and Heracles was leaning against a tree across from him. He was slouched in a way that looked casual, uncaring.

Lukas walked up to him and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. Heracles immediately stood straighter, his hands balling into fists and his eyes afraid. Lukas almost smiled; it was nice to see the respect he deserved as a king. "Heracles. Nice to see you again."

Heracles didn't respond, only stared at him. It was easier to see him in the daylight- his eyes were green.

This game wouldn't be any fun if he was the only one playing. "Anything to say for yourself?"

The fear in Heracles' eyes seemed to be masked then, and he regained a stoic visage. "What do you want?"

"You to keep quiet, of course. I don't want you running off to the press or anything..." He trailed off as he heard rustling in the bushes behind Heracles. He peered at them, trying to discern if there was anyone there. He couldn't have anyone listening in; that would create far too much trouble. When everything was silent, he went back to Heracles. "Anyway, you know the consequences of failing to comply."

When Heracles only gave him a blank stare, he reached into his pocket and slowly drew out his gun. This wasn't as entertaining as he thought it would be, not if he couldn't get a reaction out of Heracles. Maybe pushing him would be amusing in its own regard.

His gun was nearly completely out of his pocket when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gasp, and not at all masculine. He spun around, gun pointed at the bushes in front of him. There was more rustling, and he took a step closer. If Heracles brought along someone else, there would be hell to pay. No one else was to hear this.

Then he heard footsteps and he strode forward into the bushes, his hand on the trigger. A branch snapped and he turned toward it and fired a shot. There was no response.

His gun held at the ready, he slowly approached where the sound came from. He didn't care if Heracles left; he had other quarry now. And this prey was much, much more important. He stumbled, nearly falling into a ditch, and he looked down.

Straight at Elizaveta.

Mathias was right- there was nothing feminine about her. Her hair was dark and curly, tied back, she wore the same leather jacket and blue jeans every greaser seemed to wear, and her eyes were green and defiant when they looked up to him. It disappeared almost the moment she met his gaze. Lukas could almost see it evaporate, leaving behind cold fear. She was afraid. Lukas felt another rush; he was standing above her, just where he belonged.

She was holding a switchblade, but it trembled slightly in her hand. Her entire appearance reminded him of a trapped animal, her gaze afraid and desperate. It was pitiful to see her attempt to stand against him. He couldn't keep back a laugh at the sight, a harsh, mocking sound. He had a handgun, and she had a knife. "You really think you could do anything with that?"

She didn't respond, only stared at him. Her eyes were green and rather bland without their fire. "Cat got your tongue?" He made a show of placing the gun carefully on the dirt, spinning it so it was facing away from them both. He looked up to her slowly. "I'm not going to kill you. Not yet."

Elizaveta's gaze was fixed on the gun. She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. "Why?"

Lukas looked to the switchblade she still held in her hand, positioned to kill. He shrugged. "You and I, we aren't that different."

Elizaveta's gaze shot up to him, looking at him like he was insane. "No."

"No?" Lukas could see it so clearly; they had many similarities. In fact, he was starting to like her. He didn't want to get rid of her at all anymore. She was just another human, lost without a leader, and Lukas always loved gaining new pawns. For now, he just needed her to see how much in common they had. "We both have gangs. We both go to the same school." He listed the two off in a bored tone. "We both have tendencies to love someone of the same gender."

He watched her closely as he said it. She tensed and panic flashed across her face. He hit a nerve- Natalia. They really were quite similar.

"You killed someone."

Was it really such a big deal? And Elizaveta still held her switchblade so firmly, so desperately. "And you wouldn't kill me just as quickly?" He looked up to her and took in her confusion, her denial. He smiled. "Don't deny it. I can see you're just dying to."

She looked uncertain, and, more, than anything, scared. She was starting to believe him, to doubt herself. That was just what he needed; for her to see how far she had already fallen.

"What do you want?"

Lukas had won- she had given in. Now, all he had to do was reason with her. He stretched, mostly because he wanted to show her he was at ease, and partly because he wanted to intimidate her. A subject with no fear of their king wouldn't be obedient at all. "A bargain."

Those words had barely left his lips when Elizaveta jumped at him, eyes wild and blade pointed at his chest. Lukas jumped back and wrestled her to the ground, narrowly avoiding a kick. She had snapped. The fear had gotten to her.

Lukas pinned her down with his knees and grabbed his gun, pressing it hard against her skull. His face was mere inches from hers. His finger trembled against the trigger. This insolent girl wanted to usurp him, to _kill_ him. He should kill her for it. That's what a king would do. Her panic was incredibly satisfying- he wanted to make her pay.

But then, suddenly, it was hilarious. This whole situation was absolutely hysterical. Elizaveta was convinced that she was so different from him, and yet, here she was, ready to kill. He leaned forward and cupped her cheek, still laughing. "I told you," He whispered with the new fondness he found for her, "we aren't different at all."

Elizaveta's chest heaved beneath him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Suddenly, she was crying silently, staring up at him almost pleadingly.

That wouldn't do. Lukas and Elizaveta were so similar- he found he didn't want to cause her pain overmuch. Not to the point of tears. He wiped them away gently and slid the gun back into his pocket, trying to be as gentle as possible. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." That wasn't true, but he needed to gain her favor. He needed her as an ally. So he put as much remorse into his voice as he could. "I like you quite a bit, you know. So much, in fact, that I'm not going to kill you."

He picked up one of her curls that had fallen loose, rolling it between his fingers. Her hair was rather pretty. "Aren't you special?"

Elizaveta had ceased crying, and he smiled at her in the most soothing manner he could summon. "But this will be our little secret. You can't tell anyone. Or else your little bird dies."

He didn't want to threaten her, but he needed her loyalty in some way. At the terror in her eyes as he said that, he felt the return of the euphoric rush. He was powerful, and he was king.

Elizaveta tried to sit up. "Don't hurt her. Please."

Lukas shrugged. He didn't like Ivan, so he didn't like Natalia. It would be easy to remove her. "Then don't tell anyone. Simple as-"

He couldn't finish his sentence because Natalia suddenly sprang onto him, pinning him down much in the way he had been pinning down Elizaveta. The air was knocked out of his lungs as Natalia pushed her knees hard into his ribs. He felt her knife dig into his throat.

"You bastard!" He almost winced as the knife cut deeper, but he managed to keep his face blank. "You goddamn bastard! I should kill you now, I should!"

Then, Elizaveta's shocked voice. "Natalia?"

She spun around. "This bastard's gang just attacked Winter and the Blackbirds at the same time. He ordered them to, and he wasn't even there!" She punctuated each sentence with increased pressure on his neck. "My brother was almost killed because of him!"

Lukas managed to hurt Ivan. Lukas almost killed Ivan. The rush returned, stronger- he was invincible. _He was king_. Soon, his only other opponent would be out of the game, and he would never be inferior to anyone again.

Natalia's eyes widened and she turned back to Lukas, suddenly deadly. "What did you do to her?" Her voice was as frigid and cold as her eyes. Lukas almost smiled at the challenge, at her futile attempt to be above him. He was afraid, but he liked it. It was a different kind of thrill.

Natalia looked back up to Elizaveta. "Go, Elizaveta. Back to your house. I will take care of this."

At the sound of retreating footsteps, Lukas finally spoke. "This is our first true introduction. Hello, Natalia." He said it amiably. This wasn't a threat at all. After all, he was the one with a gun in his pocket, and his arms weren't restrained. He could dispose of her any moment he wanted. Like always, he was in control. But it was fun to see her think otherwise.

"Don't speak." She almost spat the words. Her knees dug harder into his chest. "I'm going to kill you slowly. I'm going to cut your throat and leave you to bleed. You're scum."

What fancy words. They were empty. Lukas would kill, Elizaveta could, but Natalia wouldn't. That's where they were different. He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do it, then. I won't be missing anything."

A long, tense moment passed. Natalia didn't look away, didn't even blink. The knife cut into his neck.

"You can't do it."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. And for a moment, she wavered. The pressure on his throat relaxed. Lukas knew he was right.

And then her eyes froze over and became hard steel, and the pressure on his neck returned. "You attacked my family. You attacked my friends. You will pay."

"Kill me." He taunted her with all the spite he could muster. "Go on, do it! I dare you! Kill me!"

Natalia narrowed her eyes until they were slits. Her hand tightened around the knife until her knuckles were white and the blade quivered against his neck. But the knife didn't do anything, and he was almost disappointed in her. "Kill me," he whispered, "and the police come after you. You'll be arrested for manslaughter, and off to the electric chair you go. Do you really think it will make a difference?"

Her words came out as a sharp hiss. "I will tell them what you did. I will them you threatened my friend and brother."

He let out a humorless laugh. It was over. That was the last-ditch effort of a damned woman. "The police are never on your side. You're a Greaser. No one is on your side." Her eyes widened and she winced, as if he had struck her. He had found a crack. Now, all he had to do was push it. "Not you, and not your brother's, no matter what."

He had won. Natalia deflated. The knife was removed from his throat and she sat back, her arms falling to her sides. The knife fell from her fingers and onto the ground without a sound. Her eyes didn't look like metal or ice or anything anymore. They were just empty, flat.

Lukas sat up easily. He moved his way out from underneath her and looked her in the eye. Her gaze was fixed upon the ground, seeing nothing. He spoke almost comfortingly. "It's quite all right. I knew you wouldn't be able to use it."

He stood, brushed off his shirt, and climbed easily out of the ditch. As he walked away, a cold breeze blew through the trees, the branches rattling together. The sky was the color of rain. He took a deep breath of the cold, thin air easily. He didn't look back.

All he would find was Natalia, crumbled and broken at the bottom.

* * *

_If you would like to read Elizaveta's side of things, there is another fanfiction titled Worlds Apart on my page that is from her perspective._

_Also an important note- Lukas' disorder was not called Antisocial Personality Disorder in this time, but would be referred to as Psychopathic Disorder. This term, however, covered quite a few disorders, and I used the more modern name to be more specific on which disorder exactly was affecting Lukas._


	3. Chapter 3

"What happened to you?"

Mathias was the first to notice his return. Emil was the first to notice the cut on his neck. He was dabbing with it with a tissue, real concern in his eyes. Lukas wasn't sure how to feel.

"Natalia found me after the whole thing. She got a little mad." He looked around at the others. They were all in Mathias' living room. Berwald had a cut down the side of his face, Tino had a split lip, Mathias was holding ice to his head, and Emil had a black eye. "Looks like you guys had it rough, too. Nice cut, Berwald."

He grunted in response. "From Beilschmidt. The blond one."

"He's the only one that could fight him, too, since Beilschmidt's so tall and all." Tino looked up at Berwald with respect and something else. Something a lot like adoration.

Berwald mumbled something else, and Lukas noticed his cheeks had turned just the slightest bit redder. Interesting.

He looked over to Mathias and noticed his watch was missing. It was one of his prize possessions; it was strange to see him without it. He gestured to it. "What happened?"

Mathias made a noise of disgust. "Braginski broke it when we were fighting. I'd rather my leg me broken than that watch, and that bastard knew it."

"There." Emil put a bandage on the cut and took a step back. "That should work." He was back to being distant and aloof; it was a trait the both of them shared.

Lukas regarded him coolly and nodded. He looked around the room and addressed them all. "Can someone tell me just what happened?"

Mathias stepped forward, grinning widely. "You wish to hear of the Siege of Hell's Cauldron?"

Lukas rolled his eyes. Mathias was absolutely ridiculous when he got riled up. He couldn't stop the tiniest of smiles to grow on his face though, and he played along. "Proceed and tell your king, grand knight."

Mathias got into a crouch and grabbed two things off the coffee table nearby, a magazine and a pen. He waved the pen around. "This is Regiment Scandinavia, ready to ambush the Land of Ice." He lifted the magazine proudly. "And this is the province of the foul Winter. We started down yonder near the tracks, weapons at the ready. Lord Mathias Køhler stood, ax polished and at the ready, while faithful servant Emil waited beside him for the action to begin..."

Emil interjected. "You didn't have your ax, Mathias."

"Perhaps we fought different battles, then, good sir. Anyway, there they stood, the cold ones, all in a circle in like they were performing some sort of wretched ritual. They seemed to be discussing something serious, the lot of them, but your good Lord here noticed that Gilbert and Roderich were there with them and not with the Birds of Black." He took the pen and moved it closer to the magazine. "And so we crept up on them, very quiet. They didn't even notice until I jumped out of the bushes, ax raised and war cry and the name of our king ringing from my lips! Viva la Vikings! Viva Lukas!"

Lukas couldn't stop the half laugh that escaped his lips, shaking his head. Mathias was ridiculous. He was ridiculous, he was devoted, and he was Lukas'.

Emil sighed and said something about how he didn't have his ax again, Berwald simply stared like a stone statue, and Tino was oddly red in the face. Unperturbed, Mathias continued.

"They didn't expect it. They scattered! I was fast on their heels, though, and I engaged with that witch, Natalia! She brought out her deadly dagger, but it was no match for a few deft swings of Lord Mathias' Handy Ax." He paused, making the magazine and pen collide, adding sound effects. "Her brother came up to me then and gave me this nasty bruise. But I would not give in, no, I would fight for dear king Lukas!" Lukas felt powerful at Mathias so easily referring to him as his king, even if it was in his reenactment. It was his true title, after all.

The magazine and pen disengaged. Mathias whipped around, surveying his audience. "We circled each other, he and I, and then I made the first move and pounced upon him! We fought fist to fist, and then Lord Mathias broke through his defenses and gave him a broken nose. With a swift punch in the ribs and a kick to the groin, Mathias and his steed, Emil, retreated... Hey, Tino, what's up with you?"

Tino had gotten very red and very quiet. He looked at the magazine in Lukas' hand, looked quickly away, and then cleared his throat. "Mathias, that's a Playboy magazine."

Mathias looked at him like he was insane and unrolled the magazine and opened it to a random page. He went rigid, blushed an even redder shade than Tino, and screamed. He dropping the magazine like it was on fire. "Th-there are women!" He stammered out.

"Yes, they occupy half this planet," Emil responded, one eyebrow raised.

"But they are nude women! Naked! I've seen breasts!" He looked to Lukas, horrified. "I don't even like women!"

Lukas laughed that time, a full-on, genuine laugh. He hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. Mathias indignantly demanded him to stop finding his pain amusing, but he didn't cease until a few moments later. He even let Mathias hold him and bury his face in Lukas' shoulder until he recovered.

Emil just snorted. "Why is everyone I know queer?"

Lukas patted Mathias head and looked over to him. "Why are you not?"

Emil considered it, then nodded. "Touché. Now, why do you even have this in your house? Is it your old man's?"

Mathias straightened and just threw his arms around Lukas' shoulders instead. "That, dear Emil, is one hell of a terrifying thought."

Emil picked it up, flipping through it himself. He tucked it under his arm. At Lukas' stare, he shrugged. "Well, none of you want it, right?"

Lukas shook his head again. Emil was something else. "Okay. Back on track. Tino and Berwald, what happened with you?"

Tino proceeded to fill him in on what happened, fortunately without any medieval elaborations. It confirmed what Mathias had said- Gilbert and Roderich weren't there. Had Natalia heard of what happened with the note from Elizaveta and tried to protect them? That would make sense.

At the end of Tino's report, he dismissed them. "Alright, that's all I'll be needing. You can be off home now."

As they were leaving, Lukas grabbed Emil's arm. "What's it like back home? How have they reacted to me being gone?"

Emil averted his gaze and pulled his arm away. "They didn't notice."

He left as well then, leaving Lukas standing there, hand still outstretched where Emil's arm was, a sense of emptiness overtaking him. He hugged himself slowly. "Mathias?"

"Hm?"

The words felt thick in his throat. Why didn't they care? Lukas wanted them to care, he wanted them to be upset and look for him and be mad at him for being home late. He could see it so clearly: he would come home and be welcomed by his mother who would chastise him again for tracking mud into the house, his father who would sit reading the newspaper and would acknowledge him with a nod, and they would all have a happy dinner together. It was so clear that it was almost real, but it wasn't. Lukas wasn't normal enough for that. He felt those traitorous tears prick at his eyes, but he managed to keep his voice steady. "Can I stay the night here again?"

"Yeah, sure." A pause, and then Mathias walked over. "Are you alright?"

Lukas looked up to him, empty and overflowing and vulnerable and stuffed full of too much for a seventeen year old kid. "Why don't they love me?"

Why, Mathias?

Why?

Why?

Mathias' eyes softened. He held Lukas gently, as if he was a glass thing Mathias was afraid he would break.

Mathias knew.

Mathias always knew.

.

"You don't have to go back if you don't want to."

Lukas stood in front of Mathias' front door. He took a deep breath. He had already been gone for two days; he had to go back sometime. "I need to, Mathias. I can't keep running away."

Mathias' hand brushed against the bruise on his cheekbone, and Lukas saw his eyes were too bright. His voice was strained when he finally spoke. "I don't want him to hurt you, Lukas. Not anymore."

Lukas put his hand over Mathias', pressing it against his face, holding tightly to it. He didn't want to ever let go. "I don't want to. I really don't. But what can I do?" He steeled his resolve and tried to eliminate his fear. "They're my family. No matter how much I wish it was different, it's not."

Mathias sighed and held him tightly. "If anything happens, come back here, no matter what. Okay?"

"Okay." He remained there for a while longer, just feeling Mathias' warmth, his strength. Mathias was much stronger than he would ever be.

Lukas squeezed his eyes shut, held Mathias tighter, and then stepped away. "I'll probably be back tonight." With that, he forced himself out the door and to his house. He forced himself to open the door, forced himself to walk inside, and didn't even stop to breathe.

It was quiet, except for the television droning on in the background. For some reason, that just made it more unsettling. Lukas walked toward the sound and carefully opened the door.

The room was dark except for the light of the television. His father lay in front of it, passed out on the table. His hand still held a glass, and a half-full bottle of whiskey sat nearby.

Lukas took a cautious step toward him. When nothing happened, he crept closer until he was standing before him. Above him. Lukas allowed himself to feel a sort of satisfaction at that- now he was the one standing above, his father collapsed on the ground. He stayed like that for a moment longer and then crouched down and grabbed the whiskey bottle. His father wouldn't notice if some of it was gone. It burned going down, but it was the good kind of burn, and he could still feel its fire in his stomach as he set the bottle down and wiped his mouth with his hand.

His nerves fortified, he searched his father's pockets until he found his wallet. He opened it and surveyed the contents. He had two tens and a five dollar bill. Lukas wanted to laugh; his father should keep that much money in his wallet. Not with someone like him around.

He took one ten and the five, pocketing it and putting the other back. He took another swig of the whiskey, staring at his father's face. He was unconscious- he was defenseless.

Lukas slid his hand into his pocket and his fingers curled around his pistol. No, he didn't need the pistol. He could kill him with his bare hands if he wanted to. He could strangle him, and good riddance. Be rid of the bastard forever.

He reached forward, pressing two fingers to his father's throat. Lukas felt his heart beat beneath them, strong and steady. Soon it would be not at all. He slid his hand back, around his father's neck, taking another drink before setting the bottle down and grabbing him with his other hand. Lukas would kill him slowly. He would make it as slow and agonizing as possible. He would inflict as much pain on his father as he had for Lukas. It was what he deserved.

"Lukas?"

He snapped out of it. His hands flew back and he whirled around, facing Emil. He turned the light on and looked down at him with suspicious eyes. "Have you been drinking?"

Lukas stood unsteadily. He was starting to feel the effects of the whiskey. "What does it matter?"

Emil immediately walked over and supported him as he stumbled. "You're too young. You're eighteen."

Lukas shrugged, trying to get to the front door. "That doesn't matter." He managed to get to the door knob, but he couldn't get any farther before Emil stopped him.

"Oh, no, no, no. You're not going anywhere."

Lukas pushed him away weakly. "Yeah. To Mathias. I want... Mathias."

Emil just stared at him. It was unnerving how stoic he was, but, then again, Lukas was the same way. "Mathias can wait."

"No. I have to go now." It was too hard to stand, so he leaned against the door. The damn floor kept moving underneath him. "I have to go before the old man gets up." Emil looked like he was going to protest, but Lukas wasn't done. "You don't get it. You're the favorite." He laughed bitterly. "They notice you, at least. They know who you are."

Emil looked taken aback. "They notice you, Lukas."

He shook his head. "Not even when your dad's beating me, he doesn't. He probably doesn't even know my name." He waved Emil away. "Leave me alone. Go... To school or something."

"It's a Saturday."

Lukas blinked slowly, looking over in the general direction of Emil. He couldn't quite tell where he was. "Is it? Huh." He leaned on the door again, trying to get it open, and Emil restrained him. "Listen-"

He was cut off as his father's voice called out from the other room. "Emil? Are you here? Emil!"

Emil closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and went to him. Lukas opened the door and staggered outside. He wasn't needed here. No one would notice if he was gone. He wasn't normal- he didn't fit. He was a king with no castle. He needed Mathias. He needed to forget.

Somehow, he managed to get to Mathias' house. Lukas half fell into his arms when the door opened and before Mathias could complete a sentence Lukas had pinned him against the wall and was kissing him hard. He leaned into Mathias' arms, his warmth, and tried to melt into that.

Mathias broke the kiss and pulled back as much as he could against the wall. "You taste like alcohol. What happened?"

"Nothing, please, please just kiss me."

Mathias pushed away his attempt at kissing him again and raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk?"

When Lukas didn't respond, Mathias swept him up easily, carrying him bridal style. "That's not what you need right now."

He reached his room and laid a still-protesting Lukas on his bed and Lukas felt him take off his shoes and then Mathias tucked him in. He left and returned a minute later with a glass of water. "For when you wake up."

And then Mathias joined him and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. His hands started working out tension in Lukas's shoulders and back and, somewhere in the back of his intoxicated mind, Lukas thought that there were other ways he could get lost in Mathias besides sex.

.

When he awoke the next morning, the light dug into his skull and his head pounded. He slowly dragged his eyes open and then regretted it, wincing. He saw the glass of water on the nightstand and he grabbed it, drinking it all before burrowing under the blankets again.

"Hey, Lukas. You're awake?"

He grunted. "Barely alive."

He felt Mathias lay beside him and put his hand on Lukas' shoulder. Lukas tried to quell his rising nausea. This was ridiculous; he didn't drink that much. He usually drank until he passed out. This was nothing.

"My parents are coming home today."

Lukas froze. It was Sunday. He swore under his breath, realizing just what that meant. "I have to stay home, then." He would have to stay at that house, sleep there, choke on air he couldn't breathe...

"I'm sorry. I would let you stay here if I could, I swear."

That wasn't enough. This house was the only place he could go to. It was his safe haven. He couldn't take staying at his home every day. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" His hand curled into a fist on the sheets. It shook, and he couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No!" Mathias would never know what it was like- at least his father didn't hit him! At least his mother acknowledged him! Lukas could still feel his arms ache, he could still see the bruise on his cheek. He could still feel his father's spit on his face. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's like there." His father liked Emil. His mother would talk to him. That was more than Lukas ever had. "You don't understand."

He felt Mathias' hand on his shoulder again and flinched away. His head pounded, his thoughts raced, his heart was in his throat, and nothing made sense. He tried to take a deep breath, but it stuck. He didn't want to go back. He didn't want to go back.

But, then again, Mathias couldn't control his parents coming home. It wasn't his fault. Lukas closed his eyes and tried to regain some composure. He was always cool, collected, in control. This wasn't any different. "When do I have to leave?" He made his voice even, emotionless.

"Before one."

Lukas dragged himself out from under the covers and checked the time. He winced at the light and tried to check Mathias' watch before remembering it was broken. He found the other clock and checked it before sighing and collapsing back onto the bed. "Three hours."

Mathias started to work out the tension in his back and kissed his shoulder. "Would you like anything?"

Lukas leaned back into his hands. He had a knack for massages. "A big breakfast."

.

His headache had faded a bit by the time he left, and he wasn't nauseous anymore. He wasn't a stranger to drinking or hangovers; none of this was new. He had half a mind to break into his father liquor cabinet and drink himself to oblivion, but he decided against it. That wouldn't get him anything but a beating.

He started to walk along the train tracks instead, heading toward Hell's Cauldron. He had to pay a certain Elizaveta a visit.

She would make a good ally. After all, they were very similar, and she could help him quite a bit. She was defiant, but that was to be expected. She was like a wild stallion. All Lukas needed to do was break her in.

However, when he arrived at the street, it was completely different than what he expected. There was a nice car- too nice for Greasers- parked in front of the house nearest to him. As he watched, two men left the house nearest to him. They were dressed much too nicely for Greasers, both in suits. Heracles followed them, pointing to another house.

Lukas slipped behind the house, following the other men. He was too curious to leave. They went to the front of the neighborhood, stopping before one of the first houses. As Lukas watched, Elizaveta emerged.

He slipped into the shadows of the other house, listening in. This was much too interesting for him to leave.

"Mister Karpusi said that you had seen the body. Is this true?"

Lukas' focus narrowed, his confidence wavered, his eyes shot up to the men and Elizaveta. His heart leapt to his throat. These were detectives, and they were looking for him.

"Yes, it is. And I believe that I may have seen the murderer as well." Elizaveta's voice was even, smooth, completely unlike what he heard two days before. At her words, his breath caught in his throat, and he had to lean against the house for support.

Elizaveta was going to give him away. Lukas could kill Natalia, and Elizaveta would give him away. It was like he was ripped from his throne; he didn't have power over her. She was truly a wild stallion. Uncontrollable.

But Lukas could try.

He kicked a stone toward them. It could get all their attention; it could get none. But he needed Elizaveta to look over.

She was the only one who noticed, glancing over in his direction. When she saw him, her face turned white. That was more like it- she should fear him. He was king, after all.

He locked her gaze with the iciest stare he could manage and raised his hand slowly, making the shape of a gun. "Remember," he mouthed, pressing his fingers to his forehead and mimicking pulling the trigger. Remember your own life. Remember Natalia's.

And then Lukas ran. He ran hard and fast, and he could hear shouting behind him. When he glanced back, he could see the three of them had followed him. He spun around and ran faster, putting every ounce of strength he had into it. They couldn't recognize him. Then it was game over, and Lukas wasn't ready for a checkmate. He still had so many more pawns.

Lukas dodged around the houses and raced through the forest between Hell's Cauldron and the train tracks. His mind was racing, his breath came hard and fast, and his heart pounded in his throat. They were going to find him. He couldn't be usurped yet- he was just starting to have fun.

He ran along the train tracks until his neighborhood came into view. He thought fast. If he returned now, they would know where he was from. They would find him.

He glanced behind him, checking to make sure they were still following him. No one was in sight.

He smiled slowly. The thrill of success shot through his veins. He stepped off the train tracks, concealing himself in the trees. He was safe. The vulture had escaped. He had managed to fly away.

He was a king. He was a monster.

Above all, he was invincible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note- Though this fanfiction (as all my fanfictions) has been discontinued, I thought you deserved to at least have the last chapter of Fly Away I wrote. It's very rough, and I didn't think I would post it, but I didn't think it was fair to keep the last complete chapter of this I had from my readers.**

**I hope you enjoy the last installment of the 1950's AU. Thank you for reading all this time.**

* * *

Lukas had never expected to go so far. When everything came into focus again, he was shocked.

He never meant to kill anyone again- never anyone but Ivan. Not Gilbert. Gilbert wasn't involved; he would just be another suspicious event leading to Lukas' capture.

He couldn't hardly believe itBut the checkmate couldn't happen yet. The grand finale was far off. Lukas had so many more moves to employ, so many more pawns to manipulate. One was standing in front of him, screaming.

Elizaveta Hérderváry.

.

Lukas grinned as he left the Jeweler's, his pocket twelve dollars lighter and a rather nice watch on his wrist. He even waved at a little girl walking by.

After he had escaped the detectives, he had gone downtown and examined the watches they had on display. After all, he had his father's money to burn, and Mathias had mentioned his was broken.

Lukas hummed under his breath as he walked along the streets, turning a corner back toward his neighborhood. It had been long enough, and the detectives must have left his neighborhood. It had been around an hour, after all.

Lukas was completely unprepared for the hands that grabbed his shoulders and slammed him into the fence. He was completely unprepared for the way his arm was twisted painfully behind his back, completely unprepared for the sharp kick when he fought back. He quickly went limp.

"I found you, Bondevik."

Lukas tried to twist around, and the hand on his arm tightened. He couldn't stop himself from wincing.

"Listen here, you son of a bitch." The voice was a low, warning growl. "Don't you dare even come near Roderich again. Don't even try. I won't hesitate to pay you back."

Lukas fought against them again, and they let go. He spun around and looked straight at the severe, long-haired, green-eyed Vash Zwingli.

"Bastard." Lukas spat, narrowing his eyes. How dare Vash challenge a king? How dare he threaten one? "Do you realize who I am?"

Vash simply raised an eyebrow. "My neighbor?"

His lack of reaction, his insolence, his arrogance... Lukas could feel his anger start to boil over, all traces of the high he felt a few moments ago gone. "No, you imbecile. I am the leader of the Vikings." He had to stop himself from saying he was a King- he doubted Vash would believe him, commoner that he was.

"And? What else? Do you expect me to be afraid?" Vash's stare froze over, and his voice dropped lower. "Do you think you're the only one with a gun?"

Lukas lunged at him, but Vash was quicker, grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him against the wall again. Lukas' head snapped backwards and his vision flashed. He gasped at the pain.

Vash leaned in so he was only inches away. "Mark my words."

And then he let Lukas go, turning back to their neighborhood.

Lukas watched after him, chest heaving and fists clenching and unclenching. He followed.

Vash returned to his perfect lawn and perfect house and goddamned perfect sister on the patio and goddamned perfect family and goddamned perfect life without any mental disorders or drunk fathers or murderers or brothers that would always, always, always be better and Lukas turned around and ran back to his house, savoring the burn in his lungs and his feet and he didn't stop until he got to his room and got his gun out from under his bed and held it close and finally breathed.

For a long moment he kneeled like that, waiting for a semblance of composure to return. When his hands no longer shook, he slid the gun beneath the mattress again and straightened, looking around the room until his eyes fell on a piece of paper on his dresser. He walked over to it and picked it up.

Therapists from now on are cancelled. We aren't going to pay for treatment for a son who's hardly home.

Lukas read the note again and again until the words blurred in a red hot mess. He held the note gingerly, looking at the perfect script and perfect white of the paper and perfect neatness before he ripped it in half. He looked over to his dresser, and, with one swoop of his arm, cleared everything on it. Glass broke.

Lukas couldn't care less.

He kicked his dresser once, hard, and then again. He could feel that same rage from earlier resurfacing, twice as hot, scalding...

He turned around and sprinted out of his house and down the streets and he let his legs take him wherever they would go and he surrendered and ran.

More than anything, Lukas needed a victory. He didn't care about his therapists- they just had a new way to tell him he was broken. But taking them away forcibly was like ripping a carpet from beneath his feet- it left the burn of lost power. He was losing his wars, his kingdom was crumbling, and he just needed to do something successfully again.

When he saw Gilbert, he sprang into motion without thinking. Lukas slammed him against the fence, much like Vash had done earlier, twisting his arm behind his back. He couldn't control himself after that- he punched, he kicked, and at one point, he felt that arm underneath him pop sickeningly- and then nothing at all. All Lukas felt was the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of a victory, however small.

And then came the scream.

.

When Lukas came back to himself, the first thing he noticed were his hands. The second thing he noticed was the blank reddish stare of the person beneath him.

He had strangled Gilbert Beilschmidt to death.

He immediately jumped back, withdrawing his shaking hands and letting the body fall to the ground. He couldn't believe it. He wasn't supposed to kill anyone else yet- no one except Ivan. Gilbert didn't do anything. And there was a witness. He would get captured.

And then Gilbert coughed and gasped, and Lukas staggered with the relief. Murder was a crime, but no one would find him for beating up a Greaser. He had so much more to do, so many more moves to dazzle his enemies with. He couldn't lose yet- and he wouldn't.

Lukas noticed a gleam in the corner of his eye, and he spun around to see Elizaveta holding her switchblade in front of her, her eyes wild and furious. She looked as if she really could kill.

How beautiful it would be to have her as a pawn. Once she was broken in, she would be quite the tool. Fierce and passionate and intimidating; even Lukas himself was slightly afraid of her. She wasn't tamed yet, though, and she was still a threat. Lukas ran.

When he got to his neighborhood, he slowed. The houses were too pure, too familiar, too foreign in their normalcy. He felt for not the first time that he didn't fit in, and he had no where he would go. His home was definitely off the list, and he couldn't deal with Mathias' parents. The very air in the neighborhood felt oppressive. He took a deep breath, sighed, and simply walked along the train tracks.

The forest along them was peaceful, and it helped to slow Lukas' racing heart and quick breath. There were bird calls here and there, and a few of the trees were starting to awaken. He drank in the tranquility of it all.

The longer he walked, however, the more familiar it became, until he stopped completely. Looking up, he saw the first house in Elizaveta's neighborhood through the branches, and it dawned on him.

He was where he killed the Greaser.

He kneeled down and combed through the gravel with his fingers. The body had been removed, of course, and there was no trace of it remaining. Not even any blood on the rocks.

He sat on the gravel, closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and smiled. This was the one place his authority was unquestionable, the one place where he was victorious, the one place he was undoubtedly King. He basked in the sweetness of victory, in the wonder of a battle won.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there for, but when he opened his eyes again, the sun had almost set. He stood and began to leave when he noticed a blur of gray dart across the tracks. Stopping, he watched a cat emerge from the bushes, trotting along toward the neighborhood. Lukas felt himself start to grin. "Cute." He crouched down and held out his hand. "Here, kitty kitty."

The cat stopped mid-step and looked over at him. With a swish of its tail, it walked over and rubbed against his hand. His smile grew as he scratched it behind it's ear. It closed it's eyes, leaning into his hand, and Lukas laughed. It was adorable.

He didn't even notice the people walking towards him until the cat stiffened and looked up. He followed its gaze.

Heracles was standing in front of him, his face ashen. Beside him was a boy with black hair and eyes that were almost as dark. Lukas didn't recognize him- he must have been new.

When Heracles didn't say anything, the boy spoke. "Excuse me, sir, but that's his cat-"

Heracles cut him off by putting his arm out protectively, his eyes not leaving Lukas the entire time. "Kiku, go back to my house."

Kiku looked confused, but he didn't argue and immediately turned around. Lukas took note; if Heracles cared so much about the boy, he would care if he got hurt, and Lukas could definitely carry threats like that out.

But, for now, he just gave the cat a last scratch and rose again. "Your cat's pretty cute."

He began to walk away when Heracles swiftly caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. "Don't touch him." He sounded more scared than threatening, and Lukas could feel the hand on his shoulder trembling.

Heracles cared quite a bit for the boy, then. How useful. Lukas smile came as slowly and sweetly as molasses, and he gently pushed off Heracles' hand. "No promises."

Lukas took another step forward before Heracles grabbed his arm tightly again. "Don't. Touch. Him."

Lukas' eyes narrowed to slits. "Get your hand off me, Greaser."

Heracles' didn't budge. Lukas could feel his annoyance start to rise, and he looked off toward the neighborhood. "Kiku, is it? What is that, Chinese or something?" When Heracles didn't respond, he pushed on. "He's a looker, don't you think? Exotic beauty or whatever. So..." Lukas' gaze slid back to Heracles. "Unspoiled."

When the punch came, Lukas took it, going with it to lessen the damage. It hurt, but he had felt worse.

"You sick bastard," Heracles breathed.

Lukas grinned. What pointless disrespect. "If you know what's good for you, you'll let me go right now."

Heracles' hand only gripped tighter. Lukas leaned in until they were hardly apart. "You don't want to end up like the other one, do you?" He whispered.

Heracles stared at him for a moment longer before moving his hand away like it took an effort. Lukas gave him one last mocking smile before he walked away.

"I could go and turn you in right now. I'll find out who you are, and you'll pay for this."

Lukas didn't even turn around. "Alright, you do that. You'll come home and find a certain someone is missing..." He paused. "Kiku really is a pretty thing. There are a lot of uses pretty things have before they die." Lukas couldn't resist looking back at Heracles. "Preferably gagged and bent over."

Heracles' hand flew to his mouth, and he took a step back. Lukas reclined his head, satisfaction rushing through him. He knew he had won. There wouldn't be anything from Heracles for a long time.

He turned around and started back to his house. A bird chirped overhead. The trees were starting to get green, and through them, the sunset blazed orange-red.

Lukas breathed in the night air, and he smiled. "How pretty."

It was a game- the entire thing was a game. A beautiful, entertaining diversion. It was almost like a play, and Lukas could see it already...

The King enters stage right and spreads his wings. He glances back at his quarry, reveling in the success of the hunt. He turns back to the abyss and marvels over how far he's fallen. How much farther there is yet to fall.

The King steps forward, readies himself, and leaps. He moves forward on the chessboard. He secures another checkmate.

The King flies away.

Lukas opened his eyes, and the abyss turned to the railroad, the blackness melted away to the grass, and the brilliance of his wings returned to just the pale skin of his hands. He shoved them in his pockets and walked on.

When he got home, the sun had completely set, and the first floor of his house was silent. He went to the kitchen, digging up a loaf of bread and some cheese. It was small, but he doubted his mother set anything aside for him.

"You know, there's soup in the fridge."

Lukas spun around to see Emil leaning on the doorframe. "I didn't even hear you walk up."

Emil didn't react. "You could just nuke it. The soup."

Lukas shrugged, biting into the bread. "And get my ass handed to me the next time I set foot in this house? I don't think your mom makes soup for four."

"Your mom? She's not just my mom, you know."

Lukas looked up to the ceiling, pretending to think. "Let's see... When was the last time she talked to me? In fact, when was the last time your dad looked at me directly when he was sober?" Lukas dropped all pretenses and glared at Emil. "Huh, funny. I can't remember."

Emil threw up his hands. "Did you ever think it's because you're never home?"

Lukas slammed down the bread. "Oh, okay, so it's my fault now? All this... All this bullshit is my fault?" He hissed.

Emil remained emotionless, as if he was taunting him. "You're not really doing anything to stop it, I mean-"

Before Emil could finish his sentence, Lukas strode over to him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and slapped him once. Hard. "You shut up. You shut the HELL UP!"

Emil stumbled backward, his hand flying to his cheek. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, he looked up to Lukas slowly, and his voice was hardly a whisper. "You know, you are just like your father."

Lukas' blood ran cold at that, and he stumbled backward as if Emil had hit him in retaliation. He gasped, trying to breathe somehow through the ice in his stomach. He couldn't be anything like his father. His father was a monster, he was a terrible, horrible person...

"You're wrong." Lukas gripped the corner of the counter to steady himself. "You're so wrong."

"Alright." Lukas couldn't even look at Emil- he didn't have the courage. "You just believe what you want to."

Lukas couldn't do it. He turned around and ran until he was in his room and the door was closed and locked and his hand was under the mattress and he was reaching for his gun and-

It wasn't there.

Lukas felt around faster, searching for it. There was nothing. He lifted up the mattress and just stared down at the floor.

He stood up, scanning the room. He had put it back earlier- he was certain. But it wasn't there. It wasn't anywhere.

He started frantically rummaging through everything in his room, growing more and more desperate by the second. No matter where he looked, however, it wasn't there. It was gone. And that meant his father took it back.

His father.

Lukas' tried and failed to calm his racing heart and unsteady breath. He paced around his room, nearly hyperventilating. He had to go to his father's study to take it back.

And his father might be there.

He attempted to take a deep breath one last time, and before he left, he took his knife.

He crept along through the halls, trying to only walk on boards he knew wouldn't creak. When he got to the study, he peeked around the doorway to see if his father was there.

It was empty.

Lukas almost sighed in relief. He slipped in quietly, not daring to turn on a light. He winced when the floorboards let out a loud protest.

He slowly opened the desk drawer and peered inside. The gun was right where he had found it before, nestled between the ammunition. He reached for it, but before he could get it, the unmistakable sound of footsteps sounded, getting closer to him.

He shut the drawer, looking around for some place to hide. Underneath the desk was an empty space, and he dove under it.

The footsteps grew closer until they stopped outside the door. Lukas took his knife out from under his pocket, holding it out in front of him. His heart hammered in his throat. For the first time in his entire life, he prayed.

_God I know that we don't really get along and I don't talk to you much and I've done a ton of bad things_

The footsteps resumed, coming inside.

_But I don't want to die here please I don't want to die yet not yet please_

They approached the desk.

_I don't deserve it God but please please_

They didn't stop. They continued in toward him, until his father's feet were only inches in front of him.

_Please please please God please please_

A drawer opened. His father coughed. He didn't move. He stayed.

_Please please pleasepleaseplease_

And then the drawer snapped shut, and the feet turned away, and the footsteps retreated until Lukas could hear nothing at all.

He slumped back against the desk, hardly believing his luck. He finally let himself breathe. He was going to be okay.

He waited a few moments longer before he quickly opened the drawer, grabbed the gun and some ammunition, and got out of the room as quickly as he could. He didn't know where he could hide it- his father must have found it before- so he shoved it all beneath his pillow. He laid down, pulled the covers over his head, and curled into a ball, shaking.

Most of all, he wished Mathias was there to hold him.

.

After that, he never let the gun out of his sight. He would carry it around with him everywhere except school, and he would sleep with it under his pillow. When he was at school, he risked keeping it under his bed again. His father would be at work in the day, so there wasn't any way that he could take it back then.

The week after that, he was completely disoriented. Emil's words echoed through his head like hammer blows each time, and he could hardly concentrate. He spent even less time in his house. Instead, he would wander around along the railroad or downtown; anywhere away from his family was fine. He had recently found a small clearing close to the train tracks, and that had become his favorite place to stay.

Mathias was occupied with his parents most of the time. Lukas couldn't stand them, and they distrusted him, so he tried to stay as far from them as he could. It wasn't like Mathias could show much interest in him, anyway. If anyone else found out, it would be disastrous. Lukas had no idea how Mathias' parents would react, and Lukas knew for sure that he wouldn't have a place to sleep anymore.

"Lukas?"

Lukas opened his eyes, looking toward the voice. He was in the clearing, and he was slightly surprised anyone had been able to find him.

Mathias stood at the edge, smiling down at him. "So this is where you've been hiding out all this time."

Lukas acknowledged him with a nod before closing his eyes again. He was half-asleep when Mathias had found him.

Mathias sat down beside him. "Sorry that I haven't been able to see you. The parents have been bugging me and all."

Lukas shrugged. "S'okay."

A comfortable silence fell between them, and a moment later, Mathias placed his hand gently on Lukas'. "It's been a while since we've been alone together, huh?"

"That reminds me." Lukas blinked the sleep from his eyes, twisted around until he was sitting, and started rummaging through his pockets. He didn't think he had taken the watch out. "I have something for you." He found it, and he looked up to Mathias, grinning. "Close your eyes."

Mathias did as he was told, still smiling, and Lukas slid the watch on. His fingers lingered on Mathias' wrist for a bit longer than necessary. "Okay."

Mathias opened his eyes, and his smile widened seeing it. He looked up to Lukas, almost in disbelief. "No way. You bought this for me?"

Lukas was suddenly sheepish. He felt his face warm, and he averted his gaze. "Well, you said you had lost yours in the rumble and all, and-"

Lukas didn't his sentence before Mathias pulled him into an embrace, laughing. "Thank you. I love it."

Lukas leaned into his arms, finally receiving what he had so desperately craved the past few days. He could feel himself start to laugh, too. Mathias was happy, and that's all that mattered. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. It's beautiful."

Lukas simply held him all the tighter, feeling a rush of emotion he couldn't quite identify. It was wonderful, it was warm, and it made him ridiculously happy, so he clung to it. He was almost never truly happy- never, he realized, without Mathias.

"Hey, Lukas?"

Lukas breathed in Mathias' familiar, comforting scent, and felt at peace for the first time in a long while. "Mm?"

There was a short silence before Mathias' arms tightened slightly around him. "I really love you, you know that?"

Lukas pulled back, cupping the sides of Mathias' face. He was really quite beautiful. "I love you, too."

For the first time in his life, he meant it. And when they kissed, he felt something different. Something explosive and warm and wonderful, and Lukas never wanted to let go.

_I love you._


End file.
